So long, Blog. So long, Choo.

Goodness. It’s been forever since I’ve even thought about this blog.  I guess that’s what happens when you have Internet issues – you're forced to make priorities when you only have a short amount of time to access the internet.  And, believe it or not, in the list of priorities, the blog fell.  Hard.

However, things are looking up in the Internet world – meaning I have a Smartphone that truly is smart and can help me access cyber space.  And once again, thoughts about the blog have started popping up.  This past month I’ve had a truly blog-worthy story to write about, so I decided it was high time I resurrect it.  And so, without further ado, I present: “My Choo.”

For those of you non-Swahili speakers out there, the word “choo” means “toilet.” Or bathroom. Water closet. The loo. The john. Insert whichever word you prefer.  As background information, or to give the setting, if you will, in my little house in Village, Tanzania, I have an inside long-drop.  That means that underneath my floor, there’s a deep hole.  It’s actually a great system – no plumbing required whatsoever. And it doesn’t smell – there’s a plastic pipe that goes from the hole all the way up through the roof – and since we all know that hot air rises, the smell goes straight up and out, far above anyone’s head. It’s genius if you ask me.  And did I mention there’s no plumbing involved? No need for a plunger in my house!

This is the loo BEFORE. Can you see the pole?

Well, it’s genius…until it falls in.  Which is a very real possibility, depending on how the particular choo was made.  My particle choo had been made by digging a hole, then keeping the sides up with three metal barrels put on top of each other, with the bottoms cut out (forming a tube).  The three metal barrels were to stop the walls from caving in.  Again, genius.  Until the metal barrels started rusting.

I, of course, was happily oblivious of all that was taking place beneath my bathroom floor.  I did notice, however, that I had a chip in the floor near the toilet seat. As time progressed, the chip became bigger. As the chip in the floor became bigger, I began to notice the number of cockroaches in my bathroom expanding.  Hmmm…said I. Not good. One day I threw some kerosene down the choo to kill the bugs. That afternoon, I killed more than 30 cockroaches in the bathroom.  Yuck. I said to myself, “This chip seems to now be a hole directly to my choo hole. Not good.”  So, since no one has yet to publish a “Where There is No Husband” book, I decided to take matters into my own hands and hired two guys to redo my floor – break up the old cement and put a new layer over top.  “Ha! No more cockroaches!” Or so I thought…  In the meantime, I figured the guys could knock down the wall that’s in the middle of my bathroom, too.  Kill two birds with one stone, if you will. Do a little bathroom renovation while I’m at it.

just a small sampling. ewww...

So then I realized I was faced with a dilemma. What to do? A new floor wasn’t going to cut it – there was some serious restructuring of the choo that needed to be done.  After much discussion, it was decided that we (well, I say “we” but it was the two guys that did it) would fill in the old hole with the rusted barrels, dig a new hole and instead of barrels, this time we’d cement it up. With good old cement blocks. Those won’t rust. They may turn to powder over time, but they’re not going to rust.  So off the guys went to make cement blocks.  And off I went to Kenya for a glorious two weeks of cold and toilets that flushed and needed plungers.

Once I returned the work got started in earnest.  The hole was dug.  How deep does one make a choo hole? Again…where’s that “Where There is No Husband” book when you need one?!  Due to scheduling conflicts, the hole was dug, but it was three days before the guys could start building with the cement blocks.  And of course, during those three days, it poured. Or better said, it gushed.  The next morning I went in to investigate, and found that the hole had filled up with dirt from the other part of the floor around the old choo…and those three rusted barrels that had been filled in with rocks and sand was now leaning precariously over the new hole.  “Oh MAN!”   The guys came bright and early Monday morning and they said, “Oh MAN!”  We decided we’d use some wire to tie up the rusty-barreled choo hole, they’d dig the rest of the dirt out (again) and start building.  “ASAP!” said I.

Can you see the wire holding up the old choo?

They got about half of the new choo built, and then let it dry a bit.  The next day, they filled in the outside and finished building the blocks up to floor level, then filled in the rest of the dirt on the outside of the hole.  We all breathed a sigh of relief.  The wire had held. The old choo hadn’t fallen over. Phew!  ‘Cuz that would have just been awkward.  On Wednesday, the guys poured the new floor.  Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday I watered the floor.  Did you know you need to “water” cement in order for it to harden properly?  Monday afternoon, I moved back in.  And ever since I’ve been thoroughly enjoying my new bathroom. With no cracks in the floor.  No cockroaches.  And no precariously positioned toilet seats.  Life is once again good.

It's done!! Yippee!

Just need to paint!

Some of you may be wondering where I went to the bathroom the entire time this was going on.  Good question.  Thanks for asking.  I have an outside choo.  The hole has been covered by old pieces of board and I’ve been using the shed as a storage place for all my school stuff.  It wasn’t a bad substitute – in fact, it was rather nice, especially at night, because the view of the stars from the toilet seat was incredible. Now, I ask you, where else but Village, TZ does one get to go to the bathroom and gaze at the Milky Way?